


Of the depths

by MorteMistrata



Series: Kidge Alternate Universes [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Medium Burn, honestly I just really love this ship, huge fucking wordlbuilding, if you got a fantasy au you want, ill write it, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorteMistrata/pseuds/MorteMistrata
Summary: The ocean is not a gentle being. She has stolen Pidge's family, and in return, given her a year of heartache and loss. On one lonely night, the sea gives something back: a fish-boy, a hint, and a chance at recovering all she has lost.





	1. Water is wet

**Author's Note:**

> Rip I think I can only write Kidge now. I legit can't write anything not Pidge related.

The boardwalk closes at eleven, and the lights that light the path shut off. Two or three flicker on and off like the flashing of a lightning bug down by the ice cream parlor, casting shadows across the darkened storefronts. Pidge steps off of her bike, and wraps the chain around one of the boardwalk’s wooden posts. She adjusts the straps of her bookbag, and then slides her flip flops off, and heads into the sand. 

 

The moon hangs full in the sky, like a fruit ready ready for plucking, illuminating the water with a gentle glow. She ignores the waves, and the well worn beachfront, and heads towards the the western end of the beach, where the sandy shores turn to jagged rocks, and caves. She steps gingerly over the broken shells, and tidal pools, her hands hovering out by her side to keep her balance. Her father’s ship might have crashed somewhere like this. Might have sunk and been churned to driftwood between rocks as unforgiving as these. Pidge pauses, and gazes at the moon’s reflection in the water, refracted by the shivering waves.

 

“Wonder if you’re shining on him too.” She mutters, and then continues on.  

 

The cave that she’s looking for can barely be called a cave. It’s more than halfway underwater, and is maybe the size of her room. There are two openings; one in the front, which can often only be accessed by boat, and by a hole on the roof. She’d found it years ago, and had only shared its location with her brother. After long afternoons at the Garrison, her brother would sit with her there and teach her about the various things that lived in their little cave. Algae, and seaweed, and the shrimp that grew in the shallow water. Once or twice, they’d even found a starfish, and he had carefully shown her it’s anatomy. It was there that he told her about the expedition, and it was there that she ran when she received the news that the party had gone missing. 

 

She finds the hole in the roof half-covered by a clump of seaweed, and pushes it out of the way with her foot before lowering herself down. Her toes don’t touch the rock beneath her, but she has faith that it’s close enough for the fall not to hurt. She lets go, and lands in a crouch. 

 

The moonlight ripples on the water, gently illuminating the water and the shelves of rock around it. She hasn't been here as frequently as she used to, and although she’d assumed it’s obscure entrance would keep others out, it would seem that someone else has found refuge here. There are piles of shells at the bottom of the pool, as if waiting to be collected, and metal glints beneath the sand. She spots an old, red blanket behind a rock near the edge of the pool, and spreads it out before sitting down, and dangling her feet in the warm water. She leans back, and closes her eyes, and for a moment, revels in the silence.

 

She doesn't know why she's come here. Her brother and father are gone. While she may not believe the Garrison’s report of the ship being lost at sea, she knows that they are far out of her reach. Sitting here, and wishing for them to come back isn't going to make them reappear. It isn't even going to make her feel better. She sighs, and tugs on her straps. Her mother had suggested asking the sea for an answer, and although she had never really believed in her superstitions before, she has nowhere else to turn. Will asking the sea about her family bring her anything but a new wave of grief?

 

Something screeches, loud and animalistic, by the mouth of the cave and she opens her eyes. Water splashes in her face, wetting her shirt and shorts and plastering them to her body. A creature of some sort writhes in the pool beneath her, too fast and too frantic for her to get a look at. 

 

Pidge wipes the water out of her eyes, and stands. She still can't see anything beyond a few flashes of red, but then she remembers, she’d brought a flashlight for the walk back. She tries to shake some water off before sticking her hand in, mindful of the books and notebooks inside, and then turns and shines the light down into the water. The light is thin and weak, but her eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and together, they manage to reveal to her something that shimmers, and a bloom of blood spreading into the water. She isn’t so skilled in first aid as her brother was, but she figures that she should be able to do something- assuming that it’s a creature of the sort that she can help. 

 

Pidge turns back to her bag again, and pulls out the little first aid kit Hunk had given her last year. She’s had to use it on Lance more than on herself, and although she hasn’t refilled it in a while, there’s enough in there to do  _ something.  _

 

She sets the kit on the edge of the ledge, kicks off her shoes, and dives in. The little pool is only about eight or nine feet at high tide, and with the tide going out now, is even less. It only takes a few kicks to reach the bottom. The blood drifts past her face, and blends into the water, and lying there on the sand, is a boy. 

 

His hair is jet-back, black like oil, and floats around his face in a fuzzy halo. It’s a stark contrast to the pale of his skin, which in the dim light seems to create illumination of its own. He leans against the rock wall behind him, a clawed hand pressing against a wound on his shoulder. Blood drifts up through his fingers, and swirls lazily above him. His body is slim and lithe, and where she’d expected a pair of long, runners legs, she instead finds a tail, gilded with the ruby-red scales of a fish. 

 

She looks up to meet his eyes, and finds that he’s already looking at her, his purple eyes glowing softly against his fair skin. She reaches towards him; to comfort him, to check if he is real; of her reason, she isn't sure.As soon as her finger’s graze his arm, the boy’s eyes narrow, and he slashes at her chest blindly as he scrambles away. He screeches something at her, loud and angry, and watches with satisfaction as blood begins to spill through the tear of her shirt.  

 

Pidge clutches her wound, and gasps as the pain hits her, the salt water adding insult to injury. She gasps, and salt water grates against her throat like a grater as she tries to breathe. She swims to the surface, thrashing like a dying animal.

 

Pidge coughs up water, her throat burning like the cut on her chest. She tries her best to ignore it, and reaches for a bottle of water to clear her throat. 

 

“Asshole.” She calls. Her voice echoes above the water, but she knows how the medium of water distorts sound, and isn’t sure if he can even hear her, let alone understand her. She tries to get into the water again, and his tail whips towards her. She jumps back onto the rock. “I’m trying to help you!” She hisses, her angry words devolves into a fit of coughing. She takes a swig of water, and calls again, louder, “Ass!”

 

The pool ripples as the boy swims to the surface, blood trailing from the wound in his shoulder like smoke behind him. He grips the rock with one arm, and the other hangs limply by his side. “Humans are not always nice.” He says thickly, as if his throat is not used to creating those sounds. He scowls at her as she ventures closer.

 

“I’m four foot eight, and a hundred pounds dripping wet.” She deadpans. The boy flicks his tail behind him, splashing water across the far wall. “You’ve got fifty pounds on me, easy, and an advantage in the water. I’m trying to help you. Are you going to let me help you now, fish-boy?”

 

The boy watches her carefully, the hint of a fang showing above his lip. Blood drips from the hand draped casually across the rock, and she can’t tell if it’s hers or his. Her cut continues to sting. “Don’t try anything.” He relents, raising a clawed hand in warning. She stares at it for a moment, mesmerised by the way the keratin hardens and darkens around the tip of the finger, changing the hue from pale white to violent red. 

 

She shakes her head, and sighs. “Whatever you say, fish-boy.”

 

She sits with her legs spread and dangling in the water, the boy leaning on the rock between them. Carefully, she leans forward and inspects the wound. The skin around it is human-like, soft and smooth except for a few patches of scales, only a few red shades past his normal tone. The cut is deep, but seems to have clotted some, as blood no longer gushes, but merely flows. She’ll have to stitch it if she wants it to close. She tells him so, and almost gains another cut as he pushes away from the rock. He floats, only his head raised above the water.

 

“No. No needles near me. Nothing goes in my skin.” He says, his voice closer to the guttural mess he’d used underwater. The moon shifts above, casting light around him in a halo. 

 

It is then that she notices the marks, faded and dying across his skin. The scars are hard to make out, most covered by a spattering of scales as if to shield the skin from further damage. What could’ve done that to him? Is that why he is so scared of her?

 

Pidge taps her chin. She’s not going to push the point, not when he barely trusts her to begin with, but she has to do something to close the wound. An idea comes to her. She pulls a pack of bandages from her kit, and holds it up to him. “I’ll use the butterfly bandages instead. I’ll cover it with gauze so it’ll stay. No needles necessary.”

 

“No needles.” He repeats again. He stays there in the middle of the pool for a moment, out of her reach, and then flicks his tail, and is in front of her again. “Fine.”

 

Pidge offers him a tentative smile, and starts to dress the wound. If her fingers graze over those glittering scales, and the smooth skin between them more than necessary, then he does not complain. When she finishes, she drops her hands hesitantly, and then leans back on the smooth rock. Her clothes begin to dry on her skin, and the salt makes her itch. 

 

The silence between them is comfortable, and it is in that silence that they feel comfortable to survey one another. The boy is perhaps eight feet long, though she can’t tell so much due to the distortion of the water, and the coil he keeps his tail in. He’s bioluminescent, she thinks, which is likely for attracting a mate of some sort. Maybe he lives deeper in the ocean. She can’t think of any other reason for him to glow so beautifully. He watches, hiding the predator’s stare behind a lazy glance. He traces the outline of her body, follows the connections of leg to knee to foot. Finally, he must decide that she does not pose a danger, as he slumps forward warily. He rests his head on one arm.

 

“So,” She pulls a back of grapes from her backpack, and hands one to him. The boy takes it reluctantly, and tries not to pierce the fruit’s thin skin with his claws. He waits until she eats hers before placing his into his mouth. An expression of surprise, and then a pleasant smile overtake his scowl for a moment, but is quickly replaced. “What’s your name?”

 

“My name?” He repeats, trying the word out on his tongue as if he doesn’t recognise it’s syllables. He holds his hand out for another grape. 

 

“I’m called Pidge,” She clarifies, handing over the bag. He looks up at her with gratitude, and starts to plop them into his mouth, one by one. “Do you have something I can call you, other than fishboy?”

 

A hint of a smile peeks at the corner of his mouth. “Keith. The last human to know me called me Keith.”


	2. Princess without her people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys. Two chapters written in one day? That's pretty much a record for me. If you haven't already checked out the other fic in this series, I'd suggest it. As always, pls read and review!

Keith pouts like a child denied Mcdonald’s, and flicks water at her uselessly with his tail. It only manages to hit the rock beneath her, and his failed attack only makes him pout more.

 

“It’s not like it’s my fault that the tide went out. S’not like you should be going anywhere anyways. You’re still wounded, and I’ll need to monitor that for a couple of days to make sure it heals right.” She lies. Pidge doesn’t want him to leave, because she  _ knows  _ that he won’t be back. At the very least, she’d like a chance to talk to him some more before he disappears again. “And I gave you like, half of my snacks two hours ago.”

 

“I run different than you. Different salt in my veins.” Keith explains, swimming around the pool in a lazy circle. The water is only four feet deep now, due to the tide going out, and won’t be back up to its full depth until later in the day, leaving Keith stuck there at the bottom of the pool. “And I’m hungry.”

 

Pidge sighs, and glances back at her bag. If Keith would be willing, she could meet Lance over at the docks, and pick up some fresh fish. His dad was supposed to come back to harbor that morning, and should’ve had a fresh net full of fish. “Well, I  _ could  _ run out to the docks really quick, if you don’t mind getting the ugly fish.”

 

Keith grins, and the points of his teeth flash. “There is no such thing as ugly fish.”

 

Pidge bites her lip, and taps her knee. If she texts Lance right now, he might be able to save a couple of them for her. Still, she’s hesitant to leave. “Or, I could stay here and have my friend bring some over.”

 

Keith’s grin disappears. “Another human?”

 

“He’s in the water nearly as much as you.” Pidge grabs her phone from her bag, and pulls up a picture of her, Lance and Hunk at the beach from earlier that summer. Lance wears a pair of royal blue swim shorts, and sits on the edge of the dock, hands working deftly at untangling the fish from their net. Hunk sits beside him, tossing fish into different buckets: chum, or food. Pidge holds the camera, and leans back to include herself in the picture. She climbs down to a small outcropping a foot or so off the water, and holds the phone out. “ _ Don’t touch it. _ ” She warns, her voice almost as dark as Keith’s had been yesterday. “He’s wearing the blue.”

 

Keith squints, and leans closer to the phone. “I could gut him, easy. A swimmer,” He snorts. “The ocean did not make him as well as she did made me.”

 

“Is that a yes?” Her fingers dance over the keypad in anticipation.

 

“Yes. But make sure he knows not to try anything funny with me. I may not have legs, but I will still kick his ass.” Keith warns.

 

Pidge wonders where her learned the human slang from. Was it from the human that had named him? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hopes that it was her brother who had met him, but she knows with painful clarity that it is more unlikely than if she were to suddenly sprout a tail of her own.

 

“Okay,” Her hands move with unparalleled speed as she opens her contacts. “I’ll tell him.”

 

**Pidge:** Yo Lance  7:43 a.m.

**Lance:** Wut           7:43 a.m.

**Pidge:** I need some fish. Still flopping pls. 7:44 a.m.

**Lance:** ??? Should I be concerned as to why 7:45 a.m.

**Pidge:** If I tell you, you won’t believe me.  7:45 a.m.

**Lance:** 7:47 a.m.

**Lance:** 7:49 a.m.

**Lance:** where do you want me to meet you? 7:50 a.m.

**Pidge:** can you take one of your dad’s lifeboats    7:50 a.m.

**Lance:** I am getting continuously more concerned 7:50 a.m.

**Lance:** But yes  7:51 a.m.

**Pidge:** Come towards the rockies, about half a mile 

from the edge of the public beach. There’ll be a red

Blanket on the cave I’m in.   7:52 a.m.

**Lance:** I am questioning my life choices, but ok.

I’m stopping for starbucks and donuts first tho, k? 7:53 a.m.

**Pidge:** Thx  <3   7:53 a.m.

 

Pidge sets her phone back in her back, and pulls the red blanket from underneath her. It’s surface is still somehow soft, despite the exposure to the seawater. She bundles it up, and sticks it under her arm. 

 

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” Pidge pauses. “Well, I mean, you can’t, obviously, but you know. Sit tight, I guess.”

 

Keith flops his tail in response, and sinks down to the bottom of the pool, propping his hands behind his head like Lance does when he goes sunbathing on the beach. 

 

Pidge pulls her shirt off, and tosses it aside. The saltiness of the fabric has been getting on her nerves for a while now, and besides, her sports bra is practically the same as her swimsuit. She leaves her jean shorts on despite their heaviness, and starts over to the mouth of the cave. The seawater is a little bit higher on that side, and the rock is slippery from the occasional high wave. Pidge doesn’t sweat it. If she falls, there’ll be water to catch her. Carefully, she climbs onto the thin line of rock, and dips the blanket in the water, before draping over the cave’s roof. It hangs limply over the opening, and flutters in the wind occasionally, but does not move.

 

She turns back to the cave, but a sudden wave soaks her back, surprising her into losing her balance. She falls into the water with a loud splash. As she sputters and gets back to the surface, she hears Keith laughing, a sound closer to that of a dolphin than to that of a human. He swims over, and helps her to the edge of the pool, watching her with amusement as she pushes her hair out of her face.

 

“Fuck. Now my pants are wet.” She mutters, more annoyed than anything else. Denim takes forever to dry out, and she hadn’t brought any spare clothes with her. 

 

Keith pinches the side of her shorts between two fingers, careful not to pierce the fabric with his claws. “I don’t see why you humans feel the need to wear so many coverings. It is unnecessary, and hinders your movement.”

 

Pidge slaps his hand away. “Because we don’t like walking around naked, alright?” She starts to climb up the rockside, but then thinks better of it. She can observe Keith better from the water, and it’s easier to ignore wet clothing when actually in the water. “And from a more scientific standpoint, because our bodies are not able to deal with the extremes of our weather. We need clothes to keep up warmth, or to prevent sunburn. But also, we don’t like being naked.”

 

“What’s this about being naked?” Lance calls from the mouth of the cave. The rock wall sitting in the entrance is high enough to block his view of the two of them due to the low water level, and as he ties his boat to the rock, his attention is directed elsewhere. She braces herself for his moment of realization. “Did you finally decide to get over your fear of nudity to go sunbath- What in the hell, Katie?!” Lance screeches, looking comically surprised with his eyes wide, meticulously arched eyebrows high; his arms are raised like the wings of a bird about to rise into flight, a cup holder of Starbucks held in one hand, and an oversized cooler dangling from the other. His eyes are glued to Keith, who watches Lance with that same faux bored indifference he had used on her last night.

 

Pidge stifles a nervous laugh. “Yeah, so, um, this is Keith. He’s a fishboy- a boyfish, merman! That’s the word, and I, uh, I found him yesterday and patched him up, and now he’s hungry. So, yeah. That’s what the fish are for.” Lance stays frozen, like a computer chewing over it’s new inputs. She makes her way over to the entrance, and climbs up just high enough to wave a hand in front of his face. “Lance? Buddy? You okay?”

 

He shakes his head, somehow still keeping his balance whilst stradleing the rock, and then holds out the cooler for Pidge to take. She has to use both of her hands to hold it, and realizing the impossibility of climbing back down, jumps back into the water. The cooler spills open as it hits the surface, and ten fish come swimming out. Keith’s face lights up, as in, his eyes actually start to glow, and then he starts to flit around the water after them.

 

Lance watches him dart around, some strange mix of annoyance, and wonder written across his face. He hands Pidge a cup of coffee- black, ten packets of sugar, just the way she likes it, and then steps over the stone divider, climbing down using only one hand. “What in the actual hell, Pidge? You found a mullet wearing mermaid and just  _ now  _ decide to tell me?”

 

Keith pops up from the water, a fish speared on his claws, and repeats the word. “Mullet?” He repeats, his eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Both she and Lance ignore him, too invested in their own spat to pause and explain.

 

“Mullet? That’s the aspect of his you choose to focus on? His mullet?” Pidge rolls her eyes.  “You’d think a fisherman’s son would be more interested in the ‘mermaid’ aspect than in his hairstyle.”

 

Lance scowls, and tosses his shirt onto the rock ledge. It lands next to her backpack, she notes, hoping that it didn’t splash too much water onto it. “It’s hard to ignore. I mean, where’d he come from, the eighties?”

 

“But not his tail, or the scales, or the claws. Nope. He focuses on the haircut.” Pidge continues, only half under her breath. 

 

Keith cuts a line down the stomach of his fish, and shakes it out over the water. A mixture of guts and blood falls, and fades away as the ocean current pulls it away. He cuts the fish’s head and tail off, and devours it with a comfortable smile. He seems unaware of his audience, who watches him with facination.

 

Pidge remembers her manners first,  _ he is another species after all,  _ and elbows Lance in the side.

 

“Ow,” He hisses, rubbing his bruised skin with his free hand. Pidge shoots him a look,  _ you know that didn’t hurt that bad,  _ and he drops his theatrics to take a sip of his hot choclate. “So, uh, Keith,” The mermaid in question looks up, blood smeared around his mouth and staining his teeth. “Think you can introduce me to any hot mermaid babes?”

 

Of all the things to say, of course,  _ of course,  _ Lance would say  _ that.  _ Pidge facepalms, and groans. Keith flicks his tail and drenches Lance in water. He misses her completely, and for that, she is grateful; her hair has only just begun to dry. 

 

“I know of none that would wish to court with a tail-less one like  _ you. _ ” Keith retorts, but his eyes twinkle in a way that leaves her thinking that he’s only teasing. He turns to Pidge, takes another bite of his fish. “Although  _ she  _ would have no lack of willing mates.”

 

Pidge’s ears burn, and Lance gapes, before crossing his arms with an exaggerated harumph. “Possible interspecies relationships aside, I do have some questions for you. Questions that have actual scientific value.” She says pointedly. 

 

Lance leans back, and settles into a back float, setting his cup on one of the lower overhangs. “Fine, fine. S’not like knowing if humans and mer people can do the dirty is important. Nope. Of course not.”

 

Ignoring Lance, Pidge turns back to Keith. He’s finished the first fish, and has set it’s bones down next to Lance’s drink. She watches as he flits around, chasing after another. “Keith, I’d really like to ask you some questions. Just a couple, if you don’t mind.”

 

Keith’s head pops up for a moment, his hair dripping into his eyes. “How do I know that you won’t use it against me? You may have been kind to me so far, but I know better than to trust kindness alone.”

 

Pidge really wishes that Keith would make things easy, just for once. She knows that she can’t expect him to suddenly forget all of the abuse he’s faced in the past from humans, but it’s annoying, very annoying that he won’t even give her a chance. She huffs, and crossing her arms, one of her hands grazing against the scratches on her side. 

 

It throbs dully, and she realizes that she’d practically forgotten about them. With all of the excitement of… Keith and everything, she hadn’t bothered to treat it. Oh, well, she thinks. She can always have her mom fix it up later. She groans mentally at the thought of having to come up with an excuse. 

 

“Well for starters, I didn’t hit you back.” Keith looks slightly uncomfortable at the mention of the wound he’d caused. “And secondly, if you’re really so worried about me using your information for ‘evil’, then we can trade. A question for a question.”

 

Lance raises his hand, as if waiting to be called on. “Can I play too?”

 

Keith rolls his eyes, and at the same time, he and Pidge say, “It’s not a game.”

 

Lance sticks his hand back behind his head, and sticks out his tongue. “I’m still playing.”

 

“Fine,” Keith jabs his hand underwater, and when he pulls it out, he holds another fish. “A question for a question. I go first.”

 

Pidge starts climbing back up to her bag. She isn’t going to chance any information being lost to her own faulty memory. “Deal,” She grunts. “But I get to record it.”

 

Lance grabs his phone out of his pocket, and waves it in the air. “Or I can. I can do more here than just provide fish, y’know.”

 

She’s already halfway up the rock by then. Her side aches with the exertion. Her face screws up into that ugly expression she gets whenever her coding doesn’t go as planned, or when her attempt at cooking dinner results in another fire alarm. She feels the urge to yell swell. She takes a long, deep breath, and it passes. “If you say so, fisherboy.” Mostly, anyways. 

 

She climbs back down into the water carefully, and takes the offered phone. She sets it to record, and then leans it against Lance’s half-finished cocoa. “Okay. No more distractions. No more stupid asides. We’re being serious now. We’re doing this for science.” Her voice wavers slightly. “We’re doing this for Matt, and my Dad.”

 

Lance nods his head in solemn agreement. Keith starts to take apart a third fish. 

 

“The ball’s in your court, Keith.” 

 

Keith emits a distinctly dolphin-like purr that she registers as confusion.

 

“You can ask your question.” Lance clarifies.

 

Keith nods, and hands Lance his half-eaten fish. Lance stares at it blankly and Keith swims around him, coming to a stop beside her. “How many are in your clutch?”

 

“Clutch?” 

 

Lance leans over and whispers, “Like how many siblings do you have, I guess?”

 

Pidge’s stomach clenches. It’s easier when people don’t ask, when they pretend Matt was never around than when they ask where he is, when he’s coming back, why she won’t believe the Garrison’s reports. Of course, this time, the question is not borne out of malice. She swallows. “One. I have one brother.” Lance tosses the fish back at Keith, and the merman snatches it out of the air inches away from his face. He takes another bite, and then offers it to Pidge. She shakes her head. With a shrug, he finishes it off. 

 

“You humans populate this world so heavily, and yet have such small shoals? It is,” He pauses as he searches for the word. “Strange.”

 

“No stranger than you are.” Lance retorts. 

 

“The world was made for my kind. There is more water than there is land. Of all of the oddities, you humans are the strangest of them all.”

 

Lance looks like he’s about to say something back, something stupid and rude, so Pidge hurries to speak over him. “How many are in  _ your  _ ‘shoal’?”

 

“Twenty-four.” He replies with a proud grin. “Allura is our leader, and I am one of her Paladins. I scout ahead and protect our shoal from those who wish to harm us.”

 

“Is that how you got hurt?”

 

The water is starting to come in again, and Keith starts to swim circles around the pool, flicking water at Lance when he passes by. “My question.” He reminds her. Pidge sighs, and pouts. “Why have you been so,” He pauses again, his teeth digging into his lip as he searches for the word. She can practically see a spinning loading sign above his head. He holds up a finger, a mannerism similar to that of Matt’s whenever he remembered something, and then grins. “Kind? That is the word. Why have you been so kind?”

 

Pidge shrugs. “What’s the point in being cruel? The world is cruel enough without my input.”

 

Keith mulls over her words for a moment. Lance swims behind him as silently as he can, and then jumps, attempting to force Keith underwater. Instead, Keith swerves out of the way, and Lance misses, bellyflopping on the surface. He pops up a moment later, face twisted up in displeasure.

 

“Fair enough.”

 

“My question.” Pidge grins. “How’d you get hurt?”

 

Behind them, a wave rises up above the rock barring the entrance, soaking her and Lance in a moment of pure panic. She is pushes against the wall, scraping her lower back and causing her scratches to cry out in pain. Keith grabs her, and pulls her towards the surface, holding her up as she catches her breath. Lance pops up beside them, and latches onto the closest wall as he coughs up the water that he’d swallowed.

 

Keith screeches something, and a woman’s head pops up above the water. Her hair is pale and silver, like moonlight, and her skin as warm, and brown as Lance’s. The water recedes and evens out, almost dragging Lances phone away if not for Keith’s quick reflexes. The woman frowns, and crosses her arms beneath her breasts, which she bares nakedly and without embarressment. Pidge feels the urge to look away, but doesn’t; nakedness shouldn’t be something to be embarressed of. 

 

The woman churs something back, in an annoyed tone, and flicks her tail at him. Hers is in hues of pink, with white spots, and reminds Pidge of her Beta fish back at home. Keith tugs Pidge closer to his chest, his scales grazing against her cut just a little too tight for comfort, and hisses. She and Lance exchange a look. Lance shrugs, and sets his phone down on a higher rock.

 

“Uh, Keith?” Keith glances down at her, as if surprised that she’d there. He loosens his arms, but keeps them wrapped around her. “Who is she?”

 

The mermaid swims forward, and brushes Pidge’s sopping hair out of her eyes. Her claws grazes her skin so softly, that it almost tickles. “I am Princess Allura, of the Voltron tribe, and  _ he, _ ” She narrows her eyes at Keith, and they brighten, like a pair of glowsticks held underneath the covers after bedtime. “Has been missing for far too long.”

 

“What happened?” Keith asks, his voice thick, as if switching between the two languages required different parts of the body to be used. Perhaps they were, she thinks idly. Maybe he has separate windpipes. It wouldn’t surprise her. 

 

“Our shoal has been decimated. Coran and I are all that is left.The other survivors have left us, and are heading south to join with Mamora or East, to join with Luxia.” Allura says grimly. A fish darts past her, and she snatches it up without looking. She looks at it attempt to free itself from her claws, only to die, and fall still. “And have you been here with these  _ humans  _ the whole time?”

 

The way she says ‘humans’ makes Pidge feel irritated. What’s up with all the hate? Pidge hasn’t done anything but respect marine life since she was born, and sure as hell hasn’t done anything to hurt Keith. 

 

“Yeah, I fixed him up,” Pidge says, pushing away from Keith. She leans forward into Allura’s face, and crosses her arms. “And I fed him. I haven’t been anything but been nice to him since he drifted in here.”

 

Allura studies her face, as if looking for her intentions, and then relents. “If you are a healer, then I would be grateful if you could help Coran. He caught the worst of the attack.”

 

Lance finally seems to unfreeze from whatever stupor Allura’s arrival had put him in, and swims towards her. “Wait, wait, wait. What attack? Who attacked you?”

 

Allura’s pretty face hardens, the patches of scales under her eyes flare like a fire as it slowly falls apart and dies. “They call themselves the Galra, and they mean to hunt me and my kind out of these waters.”

  
  



End file.
